


Get Me Through

by Jerevinan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, IgNoct, Light BDSM, M/M, Roleswap AU, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-11 13:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11715270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerevinan/pseuds/Jerevinan
Summary: Prince Ignis met Noctis when they were eight and six and have been together since. While some people have criticized the way Noctis does his job, there is no one else Ignis would rather have.[Day 7 prompt fill for ignoctweek - Role Reversal AU (Prince Ignis/Crownsguard Noctis)]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another ignoct week prompt that turned into multiple chapters. This one also has a side story involving how Prompto and Ignis met. 
> 
> I'm afraid I might be in over my head with this one, so let me know if you spot something weird? I'm always open for concrit. Oh, and a lot of the warnings apply to later chapters. But expect a lot of tenderly approached light bdsm in this later.

Noctis was missing _again_. Ignis tried his phone countless times with no luck. Regis and Gladiolus had joined the hunt, but no one had seen him.

This wasn’t the first time Noctis had disappeared during his duties, and it wouldn’t be the last.

If the two hadn’t grown up together, Ignis’ parents would have dismissed Noctis ages ago. It was only their close bond and Noctis’ skill at fighting that salvaged his job as a member of the Crownsguard. 

Ignis searched the Citadel gardens, hoping to find Noctis dosing among the marigolds or teasing the stray cats with sprigs of catnip. 

It was during those moments—when Ignis watched Noctis from behind the crape myrtles—he fell in love with him all over again.

They were first introduced as young boys, no older than eight and six. Ignis and his father had fled Tenebrae, and everyone thought Ignis needed someone near his age as company. They had chosen Noctis, whose family had served Lucian kings for generations. Many of the council members soon believed Noctis was an inappropriate choice. He always managed to land the prince in trouble, but the two children bonded in a way that their parents found hard to separate.

As they grew older, their relationship only deepened.

Ignis didn’t find Noctis among the garden paths or hidden behind the thick bushes, but curled up asleep in the gazebo with one hand resting across his belly. His chest rose and fell with each breath.

He was a lovely sight, though perhaps not one that anyone else but Ignis would have appreciated.

“Noct.” Ignis knelt beside him, shaking him gently.

“A little more,” whined Noctis, trying to turn on the curved narrow bench that lined the inside of the gazebo. His body shifted, too much of it unsupported, and he began to fall. “Shit!”

He toppled into Ignis’ arms. 

“Someday you had better save me for all the times I’ve saved you,” said Ignis as he stood. He had his arms tucked under Noctis’, forcing him to his feet as well.

“Wait, what time is it?” Noctis slid his phone out of his pocket. “Shit,” he mouthed.

“You might want to stop saying that. My father overheard you the other day and said that you’re in for a royal reprimand if you keep this up.” Ignis tried not to smile. “At the very least, he’ll tell your father.”

Noctis rubbed at his eyes, grumbling under his breath. Ignis didn’t catch the words.

“At least you didn’t fall asleep somewhere in the sun, where you’re liable to burn.”

Noctis’ face flushed. “I did that once.”

“More than once.”

Noctis leaned down and snatched his coat from the bench, pulling it on. “How much of the castle is looking for me?”

“Your father reported you missing, so he’s searching along with Gladio. Let’s hurry to the meeting before either of them catches up to you.”

Noctis yawned. “This is going to be boring. Why do we have to have all these meetings? You’re better at everything than I am. I don’t know why you even need me.”

Ignis frowned, resting a hand on Noctis’ shoulder. “You know why I need you. I don’t care if you can’t fulfill your role. I just need you to play along so you can be by my side.”

Noctis’s eyes widened. “I’ll always be by your side.”

Ignis’ heart grew lighter at those words. “I know,” he said, because he did—even if it always was reassuring to hear. “But it might be more convincing if you tried to do your job. My father is often displeased with you.”

“Yet he still hasn’t dismissed me.” Even as a child, Noctis was a notorious troublemaker. Ignis would accompany him on his misadventures and then claim responsibility, but no one ever believed him to be the source of the trouble.

“You’re twenty now. He’s less forgiving now. I can only say it’s my choice so many times before my father pressures me to have you either resign or to fire you.”

Noctis stiffened. “I’m sorry. You know I can fight. You know I’ve got your back.”

“I know these things, but others aren’t convinced. I don’t say these things to scare you—I say them to warn you. I can only defend you for so long. And I’ll continue to do so.” Ignis reached out and took Noctis’ hand, squeezing it. But they had a meeting to attend, and he could only hold it for so long in the privacy of the gazebo. He let it drop and swallowed. “Let’s go.”

The meeting was as boring as Noctis said it would be. They were always boring. Noctis sat beside Ignis with his phone under the table, playing a video game on mute. He pretended to write down notes—random words he overheard. Ignis did his part to hold his body in such a way that no one else at the table noticed what his advisor was actually doing.

And truthfully, Ignis didn’t mind. Noctis fought well and supported him as a friend. Ignis had never been vocal about his bad days, but Noctis always knew when those were and tried to lighten the mood with a four pack of Ebony and an evening playing King’s Knight. 

Noctis managed to slip his phone back into his pocket before the meeting adjourned. Ignis wished he had the courage to pass the time on his phone, but he never dared. It was always much easier to keep in line with what others expected of him. He didn’t want to cause his father added stress by shirking his duties.

Outside the door, Regis caught up with them. 

“Good afternoon, your Highness,” said Regis, bowing at Ignis before he turned to his son. The formal smile disappeared, and the creases on his face brought out his age—as did the few streaks of gray in his black hair. “Where were you? You had the whole castle looking for you.”

“I found him in time,” said Ignis, taking a step in front of Noctis as if he could—and should—protect his own Crownsguard. 

“That’s all very well, but my son should know better. I imagine you found him somewhere sleeping?”

When Ignis didn’t answer, Regis nodded knowingly.

“Dad…”

“Might I suggest you go down and have Gladio train some sense into you?” 

Ignis could sense Noctis wilting behind him. 

“I’ll go with you,” said Ignis. “I need to keep up my training as well.” Not that Regis had meant that Noctis should practice. No, the request was more of a punishment. Gladiolus would lay Noctis flat on the floor a little harder than usual and then lecture him for his absence. 

Ignis wasn’t looking forward to it, either, but at least he wouldn’t walk away with his pride wounded.

“Thanks, Specs,” muttered Noctis as his father disappeared down the corridor. “I was hoping he’d forget before the meeting was over…”

“Your father is a sharp one. He never forgets.”

Noctis and Ignis stepped into one of the elevators and rode it down to the main floor. They had to cut through a courtyard before they reached the training barracks. Neither of them said much, but Noctis did stop to pet one of his favorite cats—an orange tabby who liked to sneak into the Citadel. (Though Ignis suspected Noctis held the door open for him.) 

When they were in the locker room, switching into their sweat pants and tee shirts, Noctis tried to squeeze into a locker—only to fit halfway.

“You’d never be able to hide from him for long,” said Ignis, but it made him chuckle.

Gladiolus was waiting for them in the Crownsguard training room, broadsword resting over his shoulder. 

“There you are, Noct,” Gladiolus grunted. “Hey, Iggy. Come to watch?”

“I’ve come to train. That is what this is, is it not?” asked Ignis, smirking. “Please be careful with Noct.”

“Maybe he ought to be more careful with himself,” said Gladiolus. “Come on, Noct. Grab a sword and let’s see what you can do.”

Noctis sighed but obeyed. Ignis scooted to the sidelines to watch them spar. It didn’t start pretty—Gladiolus took a swing, and with a yelp, Noctis ducked down and rolled out of the way. Before he could get far, Gladiolus blocked his path. If not for Noctis’ size, the battle could have been over in a few seconds. His lightness gave him more flexibility than his opponent.

This went on for some time. Gladiolus might have been better, but that didn’t mean Noctis wasn’t good at fighting.

The doors opened, and Ignis was the only one who turned toward them. Cor and Prompto stepped inside. The two were chatting amicably about something until they caught sight of Gladiolus and Noctis.

Prompto whistled as he stepped up next to Ignis, Cor not far behind him. “Gladio looks kind of pissed.”

“Noct took a catnap at the wrong time,” said Ignis.

“I heard he disappeared and ran you both late for a meeting,” said Cor. He sounded amused. “Was he sleeping again? No wonder Regis was so upset when I spoke with him earlier.”

“Yes, he sent Noctis down here so Gladiolus could knock some sense into him.” Ignis nodded at the two still going at each other on the mat. Noctis was wearing down—his footing had become clumsier in the passing minutes. It wouldn’t be long before the match ended. 

“I feel bad for him,” admitted Prompto, but as he said it, he took out his camera and started to take pictures. 

“Gladio won’t hurt him. Much.” Cor’s lips twitched.

“I’d rather he not hurt him at all,” said Ignis. The two could get along fine when Noctis didn’t slack, but Gladiolus believed in tough love. Ignis never had to deal with that side of his Shield—he always exceeded Gladiolus’ expectations—but he had witnessed it enough times to know it wouldn’t end well. 

Gladiolus swung his sword several times, clipping Noctis on one shoulder and then the next. Noctis cried out and stumbled backwards.

Ignis sighed and grabbed a dagger off one of the shelves nearby. He pressed his glasses to his face by the nosepiece with one hand and used the weapon to warp between the two.

Gladiolus barely had time to react. His eyes widened, but he had already allowed his sword to fall. Ignis used the dagger to keep it from striking him across the face.

“Damnit, Iggy, why’d you do that?” Gladiolus stumbled back and swiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. “You wanna get yourself killed?”

“I realize Regis expects you to wear Noct out for his stunt earlier this afternoon, but I’d rather you stop now,” said Ignis.

“You’re too soft on him.”

“I know.” Ignis had known it all those times he took the blame for sneaking out of the palace, the time Noctis had scribbled on one of the murals and he had done everything to paint over the damage. “But he’s my responsibility, Gladio.”

Gladiolus grinned. “It was a good match.” He turned to Noctis. “You’re holding your own longer. I have a few tips, though. We can go over them tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Noctis’ shoulders sagged. “How long did my dad want this to last?”

“Nah, that’s my addition. My favor to your dad is over now. Guess I’ll have to tell him the prince stopped me from whooping your butt.” Gladiolus reached over and ruffled Noctis’ hair, making it stick up more. “All right, Cor, it’s on you.”

Cor could be as uncompromising as Gladiolus when it came to training. He had seen too many battles to take the subject lightly. He instructed them to do a few stretches before they had to run, and after their laps, he made all of them go over fighting techniques.

Noctis didn’t complain once, despite that he must have been tired. If only Regis saw this dedication. Noctis might not have been the right fit for an advisor, but he was a good friend and a loyal one, too. There was no doubt that if they ever had to see a fight, Noctis would be at the front, ready to protect Ignis.

A few times, he would look up at Ignis, and their eyes would meet. He would smile, the kind that was reserved only for Ignis. 

If only they weren’t surrounded by people, Ignis might’ve kissed him. But sometimes, the best things in life had to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had 2.5 chapters done when I started this, but I was dissatisfied with the direction this was going and had to change a few things. So here is the next chapter...finally.

Sunlight found every gap in the curtains and shone through, leaving stray beams across the bed. Beside Ignis, Noctis stirred, slapping a spare pillow over his head. 

The morning had begun whether they liked it or not.

Ignis started a pot of coffee and showered before he attempted to wake Noctis up. He received a reluctant groan and was batted away by a sleepy hand. 

Ignis leaned in and whispered, “Assaulting a prince could get you beheaded, Noct.”

Noctis turned his head so his lips weren’t to the pillow. “They haven’t beheaded anyone in, like, two hundred years.”

“I might bring it back.”

“You’re not going to behead me. You’re going to kiss me.”

Ignis chuckled and sat down on the end of the bed. “Am I?”

“Yes.” Noctis wriggled beneath the covers until he was facing upward. “Ready any time.”

Ignis rested a palm near Noctis’ head and leaned in. Their lips met halfway—more effort than he would have expected Noctis to take at that time of morning. 

It lasted too long. Ignis took another and another, lips lingering on Noctis’ as thoughts of further bed-related pursuits filled his mind. All of it tempted him away from work and duty. If not for his self-discipline, he might have given in.

Noctis would have loved that.

“I’m sorry, Noct. Another time.” He kissed him once more before he pulled away. “We must be up. It’s a busy day.”

“Every day is a busy day.” Noctis reached for a pillow, but Ignis snatched it out of range. “Specs, _please_ …” 

Ignis dropped it on his desk chair and left the room. After a nice cup of coffee, he would feel more refreshed and clear-headed. Then he wouldn’t be thinking about lovemaking and a sleepy day in bed. Even if sometimes it would have been nice to know what it was like to live the life of an ordinary citizen who had the weekend off.

Noctis joined him twenty minutes later at the table, not long before Ignis had finished cooking their breakfast. He had showered, but instead of dressing, he strolled out in only his boxer briefs. He kept a towel wrapped around his neck to catch the stray droplets from his hair. 

“I’ll get dressed soon,” he promised as he poured a glass of orange juice.

“I know. Just don’t run us late.” Ignis’ warning was pointless—Noctis always ran several minutes behind schedule. 

Noctis used to set the alarms, during his first official weeks as Ignis’ “roommate”. Sometimes he scheduled both his phone and a separate clock. Ignis was prepared for him to sleep through both because he often did. Noctis woke up frequently throughout the night, and when he finally did sleep, Ignis loathed to force him out of bed. But Noctis was determined to prove himself worthy; Regis had only agreed to let him move out of the main house because Noctis had convinced him that his proximity to the prince would make him a better advisor. Ignis and Noctis had always slept over at each other’s houses, leaving their belongings behind, but when Ignis got his own apartment at sixteen, Noctis spent more weekends there. By the time Noctis approached his father and begged to move out at eighteen, a good portion of his clothes and games were at Ignis’ place.

Regis gave into his son’s pleas far more easily than either of them expected, but he held Noctis to his promise. And Noctis had certainly given his best effort at first, even if eventually, Ignis and Noctis fell into their same old habits.

“It shouldn’t take long to get ready,” said Noctis as he dipped his fork into his eggs.

They had to meet Gladiolus for another training session, but that wouldn’t be until after their meeting. Noctis had helped Ignis label reports the night before, handing him tabs and giving him kisses as “rewards” for his progress, but there would be another stack by the end of the night. 

But wouldn’t the meeting’s most crucial points be tabbed in a report later? Would Gladiolus be that upset if Ignis cancelled, even when it meant keeping Noctis for the day? They could train tomorrow and the next day, but sometimes it could be paused for the things they would never be able to do again.

Ignis withheld a secret from all of them. He had walked beneath the paintings with the weight in his heart and stomach, always knowing the story in the prophecy waited for him. When he could bring himself to look at the murals, he saw the four of them, one of them blind—though he could only suspect which of his companions that fate would befall—and knew his future in those cursed brushstrokes. 

How much more time would pass before he could no longer hold Noctis?

Ignis gave in to his selfishness. His arm snaked around Noctis, fingers deep in his hip, and pulled him into his arms as soon as the dishes were finished.

“Let’s stay in. We’ll have a sick day.”

“What’s going on?” asked Noctis, smirking up at him.

Not lust, not a playful boyishness, but he let Noctis assume the reason for playing hooky as they melted into one another’s arms.

Ignis silenced further questions with his lips, feeling Noctis’ muscles yield beneath his hands. He dipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Noctis’ boxer briefs, digging into the supple flesh of his perfect ass. Noctis seldom wore clothes that flattered his backside, but Ignis had oft admired it when the ill-fitting trousers were shrugged off. 

Noctis took hold of Ignis’ collar and tugged him down into another kiss, hips grinding closer. 

“I should call,” whispered Ignis as Noctis broke away for breath. He slapped his palm around the counter until he found his phone. He called Gladiolus first while Noctis teased at his growing erection through his slacks.

“What’s up?” asked Gladiolus when he answered.

“I need to cancel. I’m not feeling well.” Ignis tried to mask the huskiness in his voice as a sore throat, giving it a raspier texture that did indeed hurt his esophagus. 

“Uh, sure. Reschedule when you’re feeling better?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Yup. Get well soon, Iggy. Bye.” 

Noctis had stealthily unbuttoned Ignis’ trousers during the call. Ignis batted him away.

“I have to call Regis next.”

Noctis smiled, the mischief twinkling in his eyes as he gazed upward. 

“I’ll spank you,” threatened Ignis, knowing that would only rile Noctis more.

“Not if I tie you up first.”

 _That_ got Ignis’ attention. It had been a few weeks since he had felt any bindings against his wrists. He wanted to tease and explore, making love with only brief intermissions between each time. 

“Let me call in sick and you can tie me up a dozen times,” promised Ignis, the back of his fingers stroking Noctis’ cheeks. 

Noctis leaned back, nodding.

Regis answered the phone right away. “Prince Ignis, is everything all right?”

“I won’t be able to make it to the meeting,” said Ignis in a low voice, trying to recreate the same effect he had for Gladiolus. “I’m not feeling very—nghhhh!” 

Noctis yanked his head away, releasing his teeth from where he had gently used them against the tip of Ignis’ cock.

“Oh, gross!” Noctis cried loudly. “You totally puked all over the place.”

Ignis tried to play along, but his eyes were narrowed on his boyfriend.

“I’m sorry, Regis,” said Ignis as he tried to steady his breath. “Noctis will get me some soup. It seems I can’t hold down my breakfast.” 

“You can’t hold down a lot of things,” whispered Noctis, reaching for Ignis cock only to be slapped away. 

“I understand,” said Regis hurriedly. “Be careful.”

As soon as Ignis hung up, he tossed his phone to the countertop and dove toward his boyfriend. Noctis scrambled to his feet. Ignis’ fingers brushed along the back of his boxer briefs, not able to catch enough fabric to pull him back.

“You’re lucky you didn’t ruin that!” Ignis shed his pants, finding them useless to run in when Noctis had removed them partway. He threw them to the floor and continued the chase. Noctis hopped over the back of the sofa. His attempts at circling around the furniture were futile. Ignis hooked him by the waist as he tried to duck around him. 

There was no fight from Noctis as soon as he was captured. He sank against Ignis’ chest, his moans ripe and vibrating against Ignis’ neck as he nuzzled his throat.

“Remember our safewords,” whispered Ignis. “I’m going to be rough on you for this.”

Noctis rested a palm over the crotch of Ignis’ underwear as a reply.

Ignis took hold of Noctis wrists and led him to the bedroom. As he forced Noctis to bend over the mattress, Noctis extended his arms, fingers curling into the mattress as he hummed. With a jerk upward with his hips, his ass raised in the air. 

“Feeling naughty, are we?” asked Ignis, running his palm over one ass cheek. He tugged away the underwear, careful of Noctis’ erection. His first spank was hard, a test to see how receptive Noctis would be. Red blossomed across the skin. 

“Again.”

“Much harder, I think.”

“Hngh…yes.”

Ignis ought to have tickled him for the stunt he pulled rather than give in to Noctis’ wanton needs, but it was too late to change course. Noctis raised his hips again for the next few cracks against his ass, the color deepening on his pale skin.

Ignis waited a beat before each blow, allowing them to listen to the sound echo in the room. Noctis buried his teeth into his pillow, and Ignis wished he could be beneath and above Noctis all at once. A waste for the sheets to receive that mouth. 

“You like biting, do you?” Ignis made sure to slap a little lower, around the thigh. Noctis would feel him later and love every minute he was left squirming when he sat down. “Quite inappropriate to bite me.”

Noctis smirked.

“So guilty,” said Ignis, rolling his eyes. His palm ached, but they had yet to agree to the terms of using any implement in their impact play. He took Noctis by the hips and rolled him onto his back on the bed. He pinned him down by the wrists and kissed him instead.

Ignis withdrew lubricant and a condom from the bedside drawer and pressed them into Noctis’ hand. 

“Put it on.”

Noctis scooted further onto the mattress and rose into a sitting position, eyes mostly on Ignis except to glance down twice as he unrolled the condom over his length. Ignis stripped, being slow enough that Noctis wrapped his hand around his covered cock.

Ignis ensnared his wrist. “Noct,” he warned.

“Did you know you’re beautiful?” Noctis smiled.

Ignis had spent most of his lifetime indifferent to his looks except during that accursed stage of puberty where every pimple in the kingdom had decided to reside on his face. That had made him feel ugly for the first and only time in his life. He could live with the scars they left behind—it was better than the acne. But it helped when Noctis praised his looks. Only Noctis’ opinion mattered.

“So are you,” said Ignis, leaning in for a kiss. 

Noctis seized this opportunity to insert a well-lubricated finger into Ignis, massaging until the gel was warm. Ignis ached for him, wanted nothing more than to feel Noctis slam into him until they collapsed, well spent.

Ignis adjusted himself over Noctis as the other man guided his cock inside. Noctis bucked as soon as he entered, hands raising to Ignis’ hips to rest there. Ignis gasped at each thrust. He peered down into Noctis’ face and thought of how lucky they were in this moment, to have each other, to have never had to hunt the world to find one another.

Ignis used one hand to jerk himself off as he circled his hips, Noctis thrusting beneath him. He came seconds before Noctis, thick spurts that landed across Noctis’ torso. His lover cried out with one final buck, and then they melted against the bed, Noctis’ cock softening inside of him until one little adjustment of his hips let it slip.

Ignis went for a kiss and then another, fingers curling into Noctis’ hair. 

“I love you.” He left the words in Noctis’ ear—a promise, a commitment. A betrayal that he couldn’t tell him the full truth and would only ever be able to bury it with these moments together.

“I love you, too.” Noctis closed his eyes, smiling lazily. 

Ignis combed his fingers through Noctis’ hair and kissed apologies against his throat, his heart aching that he never wanted anything more than a future of playful weekend mornings in bed together.

They would never have enough time, not even if the gods gave them an eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! :D
> 
> I'm mcalhen on tumblr and twitter and am obsessed with ignoct. ~~join me in ignoct hell if you aren't there already~~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important notes to the story changes: Lucis is still Lucis, so I’ve decided that with a roleswap, Ignis is Ignis Lucis Scientia, and Noctis is just plain ol’ Noctis Caelum. 
> 
> I had to change Noctis and Ignis’ ages from earlier chapters, so I went back and edited that Noctis is twenty, so Ignis is twenty-three. I had to change most of this chapter, too, even though it was written back around ignoctweek.

Following a retreat in battle from the Niflheim army, King Dexter had to be placed on bedrest. Ignis and Noctis received the news while standing in line for drinks at a local coffee shop. 

The notification hit both their phones at the same time. Noctis, already holding his phone in his hand to kill time with a little King’s Knight, saw the text box pop up in the middle of the screen before Ignis could reach into his pocket. 

“We’d better go,” said Noctis.

Ignis stared at his phone a moment before he nodded. They left their place in the queue, weaving through the crowds to the exit.

“Can you drive?” asked Noctis. 

“I’m fine.” 

Ignis didn’t look well—paler in the face, his teeth clenched and drawing the skin around his jaw taunt. 

King Dexter had always been somewhat intimidating to Noctis, who had become familiar over the years with the sharpness of the king’s reprimands after Noctis had dragged the prince on one of his reckless adventures. In contrast to Regis, who could be stern but cheerful, Dexter didn’t seem to have a humorous bone in his body. Ignis had never been close to his father. The two rarely saw one another. As a child, Ignis’ care had been left to nurses and tutors. The boys had sought advice from friendlier individuals, such as Regis and Cor—even from Clarus, who could be as kind as he was firm. 

Noctis wanted to ask how Ignis felt, but if he did, he feared he would open a door he couldn’t close. A rush of memories involving the king invaded his thoughts. What was on Ignis’ mind?

Noctis wasn’t ready for Ignis to take the throne in Dexter’s place. It didn’t matter if Ignis had prepared his life for this moment, it was too soon and Ignis was too young.

Ignis had been conceived late in his parents’ lives. Noctis knew the story from Regis, but it wasn’t as if the whole of Insomnia couldn’t remember. The city had held its breath, waiting for the king and queen to have a child. Doctors had been summoned to help. As the years passed without success, the pair grew older. The fate of Insomnia rested on the ability of the royal family to produce heirs, and there were none.

Dexter was forty-one when his wife—thirty-eight at the time—gave birth to their son. To their fortune, he was a strong child with good lungs and a steady heartbeat. Each year that passed, each footstep he took, brought relief to the family. When Noctis met him, he was already tall and intelligent. People were willing to overlook any imperfection in the prince out of joy that he existed at all. That lasted until puberty, and then Ignis’s acne-ridden face and glasses and overbite were all the tabloids cared to discuss. They lost respect for the scare that had gripped Insomnia for over a decade.

Ignis had no siblings, and when his mother died when he was eight, Noctis had been introduced to help keep him company and be trained as his advisor. Not long following the invasion of Tenebrae, Lunafreya also reached out to Ignis. She insisted they become pen pals. With Gladiolus and Prompto, Ignis was far from alone in the world. 

But would he miss his father after he passed on?

Noctis and Ignis arrived at the Citadel and were escorted to the king’s personal chambers by Regis. 

“Dad, how is he?” asked Noctis during the elevator ride.

“He’s awake. Talking.” Regis scratched at his beard. “He isn’t eating well right now. I’m afraid it’s showing, so be aware of that when you see him.”

Noctis thought that meant Dexter would be weak, but when they stepped into the room, he took in the assortment of monitors and tubes surrounding the bedside. They all hooked up to the withered body on the bed. Dexter had always been a slim man, austere and tall. His face was gaunter. The weight loss wasn’t severe, but there was something different about his eyes.

In this state, Noctis was more intimidated by him than ever.

“Ignis,” said Dexter in a raspy voice. With Clarus’ help, he sat up against a tower of pillows behind him. “It’s nothing. This happens in old age.”

Noctis took a glimpse at the ring, loose now on the finger that had once wore it proudly. The cursed ring’s fury sucked at the marrow of the king, picking his bones clean in its teeth, until it required a new host.

_Ignis._

Noctis longed to reach out to Ignis, to touch him and beg him not to wear the ring next. Noctis would fight by his side, but how could he protect him from the same fate as his father? 

Noctis couldn’t even reach out to offer comfort. Any sign of intimacy might clue Clarus or Regis in on the nature of Ignis and Noctis’ true relationship. All Noctis could do was stand by his side. Hope his love was communicated.

Even though all that filled his thoughts was dread and disgust, and a newly forming self-hatred for being helpless.

~*~

Noctis returned home before Ignis, who wished to remain with his father a little longer. He should have been finishing up errands and sorting out the schedule. Possible arrangements would need to be made—Noctis would have to speak with his father in the morning. They would need to take every precaution to see that Ignis’ ascension to the throne would go smoothly in case the king passed. 

But the bed summoned Noctis, as good a place as any to be swallowed up and never leave. 

He didn’t turn on any lights when he came in. He undressed, finding his most comfortable pajamas and sweatshirt before slipping into the covers. 

He closed his eyes, but nothing helped. The visions returned—the ones of Ignis’ strength sapped, his body broken and failing as time wore on. All for the sake of his people. 

It wouldn’t be fair. It never had been. 

The only help Noctis would ever lend to Ignis would be on his pilgrimage around Eos, gathering the strength of the previous kings and queens. Then Noctis could fight at his side against monsters and daemons, proving his worth for the first—and likely last—time. After that, he wouldn’t be able to stop the repercussions of using the ring and holding the wall that Ignis would endure until it claimed his life, the way it soon would take King Dexter’s. Maybe he didn’t want to help Ignis if it meant that would be their ending.

Noctis curled further into himself under the covers, closing his eyes against the flood of tears, tightening his throat against the sobs. 

The worry eventually wore him out. Nightmares claimed his dreams until he woke up drenched in sweat. The barely cracked blinds revealed dusky skies. Not long after, he heard the front door open. Noctis settled into the covers, eyes open but facing the windows so Ignis would think him asleep.

“Noct?” Light poured in from the hallway as Ignis entered the bedroom. Everything went quiet for a bit, and Noctis wished he had the ability to sleep so he didn’t have to lie. “I know you’re awake. Is something wrong?”

Ignis flipped the light switch, and Noctis winced against the brightness, turning his head into the pillow. A weight landed on the mattress beside him. He could have pulled away as a hand landed on his shoulder, but he snatched it and drew Ignis nearer. He turned and forced his lips against Ignis’, fresh tears blurring his vision.

Ignis didn’t return it. He jerked away in surprise.

“Noct, you didn’t do anything I asked of you.”

“I know, but…” Noctis scooted into a sitting position using his elbows until his back was against the headboard. “I didn’t feel good.”

“I’m relying on you…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe I’m worthless.” Noctis gritted his teeth, aware that his voice held a vicious tension that Ignis did not deserve.

Ignis barely flinched, dignified and composed like the perfect sculpture of a prince. Noctis’ words only had the ability to chip at the clay, but he could not make him surrender, mold him into something new. Someone who wouldn’t be king. Someone who wouldn’t be drained by the magic that had given them everything—luxuries Noctis had known his entire life. 

No daemons. Video games. A childhood of running the hallways of the Citadel with his best friend, his future lover.

Ignis wouldn’t be alive if not for the need for an heir. The king and queen might have given up their task for a child, citing too many miscarriages and stillborn babies as too heavy on the heart to keep trying. But they had needed Ignis. For the ring, the wall, the crystal.

Noctis began to cry.

Ignis came to his side, wrapping one arm around him. The guilt increased his sobs. He should be there for Ignis, not the other way around.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” said Noctis, when he had calmed and curled against Ignis’ side. He gripped Ignis’ shirt so tightly in his fist it came untucked. “I’ll meet with Dad. Do all the errands. I’m sorry.”

“I know it’s hard, but I need you right now.”

“I know.”

Ignis kissed the top of his head, fingers raking through his hair. He felt like an idiot, blubbering on about his uselessness when everything was on Ignis. It would not be his ring to bear.

Words were never enough to show his love and gratitude. He closed his eyes as he leaned against Ignis’ chest, feeling his warm heart beating against his ear. He fell asleep to the rhythm, reassured that they still had time together.

~*~

Regis looked unusually haggard when Noctis entered his small office. Cor sat across from his desk while Regis kept his cell phone pressed to his ear. Regis noticed Noctis and gestured with two fingers for him to sit down next to Cor.

A paperweight—some clumsy clay blob that Noctis had sworn was a turtle when he brought it home from elementary school and gave it to his father—sat atop a stack of papers and stared at him critically with its scooped-out eyeholes. He plucked it up and rolled it in his hands, smoothing his fingers over the green glaze. 

He caught words on Regis’ side of the line.

“Yes, I’ve sent word to Clarus. This is a disaster.”

Disaster. Noctis straightened up and threw an anxious glance in Cor’s direction. Cor, whose face was already lined with concern, managed to increase the grimness of his expression.

“No, we’ll see what happens when he arrives at the Citadel. Now we know what happened in Cavaugh.”

Cavaugh? Noctis remembered bits and pieces of the last meeting they had had before King Dexter had taken to his bed. The Kingsglaive—a new group Regis had proposed Dexter form out of immigrant refugees able to fight—had taken on daemons well into the night before Niflheim had retreated. 

The council had held their breath to see what would happen in the following days. It did not help that the king’s health had declined. They were working on borrowed time.

Regis finished his phone call and let out one of the longest sighs Noctis had ever heard from any human in his life.

“The chancellor of Niflheim arrived in Insomnia,” said Regis. “He’s on his way to the Citadel. We have to get the King prepared for a meeting, and his highness must be summoned as well.” Regis dialed out, presumably to contact Ignis. While it was ringing, he turned to Cor. “Please tell Clarus to get his majesty ready.”

Noctis gripped the turtle tight in his palm as Cor hurried out of the office. What was an envoy of the empire doing in the Crown City?

“Prince Ignis, please come right away. You’re needed in the throne room. Oh, you came here with Noct? That’s good to know. I’ll see you soon.” When he hung up, he glanced at his son. “Noctis, can I rely on you while I help his majesty?” 

“Can’t I go?” 

“No, you don’t have the clearance yet. You shouldn’t have overheard as much as you have—pretend you don’t know the chancellor is on his way to the Citadel. Besides, I need your help. King Dexter is doing better this morning, but this surprise visit might be more stress than his body can take.” 

Noctis sucked in a deep breath. His tears should have been spent during the night, when he wept in Ignis’ arms, but there seemed to still be some on reserve. He didn’t want to cry in front of his father. Not in the Citadel, when no one felt any less upset than him about the situation. 

“Where can I find the paperwork I need?” asked Noctis.

Regis tapped a stack on his desk. “I can count on you?”

“Yeah, Dad.” Noctis didn’t see any other choice. If this would help Ignis, he would do anything.


End file.
